


And I'll leave with your head, oh I'll leave you for dead

by Milieu



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 21:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3264428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milieu/pseuds/Milieu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, hate, that same old song and dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'll leave with your head, oh I'll leave you for dead

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics that make up the title are from the song "The Wolf" by Phildel.

Another night, another body, another irritatingly long conversation with Marluxia before he just takes his damn dossier and leaves Vexen in peace.

He always leans in closer than necessary to deliver a comment that Vexen never asks for. He always smells sweet. It's thick and cloying and makes Vexen want to shove him away, but he always retains his composure.

Almost always.

Sometimes Marluxia's sleeve rides up or his glove slips down and the scar that Vexen left is visible. Vexen won't deny that he takes a bit of sadistic pleasure in the memory of the look on Marluxia's face in the instant before an icicle broken off the overhang of a window -  _ice,_ of all things, and how did a man who spent most of his time behind a desk get so adept at improvising weapons - tore through the skin of his wrist. True, Vexen had gotten the upbraiding of his life for putting one of their best out of commission until his hand healed enough to hold a weapon again, but he considered it well worth it. That had been the turning point, after which Marluxia truly started to take him seriously. Vexen hadn't been aiming for his arm; he'd been aiming for his face, and it was just Marluxia's reflexes that had saved him from losing an eye or worse.

Vexen deserves to be taken seriously.

Sometimes Marluxia's tongue darts out to run over his lips before he speaks. Vexen wonders if the man realizes that it's a nervous tic. Then he wonders at what point he started to know Marluxia well enough to realize that himself.

Another night. Another body, only the body is Marluxia's pressing him against the wall, and they tear at each other with hands and teeth, and fight, and  _take_. Vexen ends up with a chunk of Marluxia's hair still clutched in his fist, and it's days before the sweet scent completely fades from his gloves.

Vexen has more scars than one would expect from him. Marluxia can't suppress his curiosity once he sees the full extent of them. He wants to know,  _needs_ to know the story behind each and every one. There are times when he lets himself get distracted, wondering what secrets could possibly wait buried in Vexen's past, what could have driven him to the Organization, how many of those scars were from the work he'd done here and how many were from  _before_.

He needs to leave his own marks on Vexen's body, the way that Vexen marked him.

Another night. Another whisper that he isn't sure is really spoken aloud, _Won't you let me take care of you, Vexen, I could if you'd let me. Love me, Vexen, won't you love me?_

And then Vexen tears into him again, and all he knows is pain, and cold, and bliss.


End file.
